


I'm A Bicycle for this Title: Two-Tired to Think of One

by HenryMars



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Groom!Hrid, I guess if you count you guys fucking at a wedding plot, I like to keep the partner ambiguous so that you guys can make your ships come true!, I wrote this in like a day and it's not my finest work but that's okay, I've only got 6hrs sleep total over the past two days I am so sorry, My friend and I want Groom!Hrid so bad, Other, Porn Without Plot, also fjorm is in love with laegjarn in my mind's eye but she can be married to whoever you want to!, as with a lot of my Fire Emblem ship pieces that you guys have never seen, hrid is gay and in love with alfonse, if you wanna know my personal hc that you didn't ask for, right the hell now!, say it with me kids, so in my head this is hrid x alfonse, we're equal opportunist here!, well there's a little plot, what do we want?, when do we want him?, you want hrid to fuck sharena? imagine it!, you want hrid to get down with hector? hell yeah!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-20 20:25:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18999901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HenryMars/pseuds/HenryMars
Summary: My friend and I want Groom!Hríd as a unit and also white suits are hot so I wrote this in a matter of hours.





	I'm A Bicycle for this Title: Two-Tired to Think of One

**Author's Note:**

> As always you can blame my mostly gay partially bi friend for this. The same friend responsible for the Alfonse x Reader I wrote eons ago or something.  
> I don't think I beta-read this and I don't think I'm going to.  
> I'm @marstonland on Twitter

He looks so good in a suit, that crisp white fabric hugging him tightly in all the right places. You thought about that at length as you stole glances at him from across the reception, and you think about that now when you two are finally alone and you grab him by his blue-striped tie and kiss him like the world is ending. He returns it eagerly, pinning you against the wall and gripping your hips to pull them against his. You feel his desire pitching a tent in his pristine white slacks, and you smile as his tongue invades your mouth.

When you part for air, breathless with need, you take this moment to push him onto the nearest couch or loveseat or whatever the hell it is. You're straddling him, rocking atop his boner through the fabric, and he groans and moves with you. Hríd fumbles with his suit buttons, trying to remove his jacket, but you swat his hands away.

"Nuh-uh, handsome," you croon, rubbing your hands up and down his broad and muscular chest. "The suit stays on."

He gives a flustered grin back up at you, his face starting to dampen with sweat.

"As you wish," he replies in a sultry rumble.

You lean down and kiss him again, this time with a ravenous hunger as you sloppily kiss down his neck, nipping his skin and eliciting a pleasured gasp each time. He's so hard now, he's pressing into your crotch and begging to enter. You think you feel the dampness of pre-cum beneath you, but that could just as easily be your own excitement too. You slide off his lap but crouch between his legs, grabbing his cock through the fabric of the pants and teasing him like this; his hips buck up into your touch as a needy whine slips past his lips. You're grateful for the music in the next room, because you  _ love _ to make him scream. Slowly, you unzip his zipper and reach inside his fly to unsheathe his dick. You roll the pad of your thumb on the head, teasing him and gathering the pre-cum into a lubricant that you then use to jack off Hríd's length. He bites his palm to keep quiet, but you can still hear his muffled moans around the meat of his hand. You lean forward and take the tip into your mouth, lavishing the head of his cock with your swirling tongue before slowly taking the rest of him. Hríd's hips roll forward, trying to initiate movement, but you dig your hands into his flesh to stop him. You're frustrating him, but honestly, he deserves it for looking so  _ damn _ fine in that white three-piece.

When you move, Hríd has to cover his mouth with both hands. A shame; you love it when he's so vocal. You coat his shaft in saliva as you press two fingers dry into his asshole. He gasps shrilly between bobs of your head and stimulation of his prostate, and the tightening of his muscles around your digits let you know how  _ close _ he is to release. But you're not quite done with him yet, so you pull away completely from him with a  _ pop! _ and a  _ schluck! _ Hríd looks dazed and a little annoyed, his icy eyes hazy with lust when he looks down at you. You get up and quickly undo your pants, shoving them to your ankles, before climbing onto Hríd again and positioning his dick at your entrance. With as little as a wink, you lower yourself onto him, your breath hitching as you bury him to the balls inside you. Hríd moans your name, his hands moving automatically to your waist to keep you steady. You start to bounce atop him, and he times his thrusts to you rhythm. It's a steady pace, the concern of being caught too far from either of your minds as you both try to enjoy this quick moment. Hríd's isn't shying from his noises anymore; moans and pants from both of you fill what the neighboring music doesn't.

He comes inside you, and you have to hold back yours lest you ruin  _ such a nice suit. _ Hríd doesn't forget, however; once you're off of him and he's tucked himself back into his pants, he kneels down, grabs your hips, and treats you back. You cling to his hair as your legs shake with orgasm, almost doubled over his head beneath his deft tongue and quick fingers. He helps you ride it out, descending from Cloud Nine in a minute. Your strength to stand returns when he pulls out and holds you to his chest.

"Was this your intention all night?" he murmurs in your ear, amused. "To get me alone at my own sister's wedding?"

"What can I say?" you reply dreamily, tracing a diamond shape on Hríd's lapel. "Everybody's crazy 'bout a sharp-dressed man. And my man is the handsomest of all."

When he leans down to kiss you, it tastes like you. And that's pretty hot. You consider briefly a round two when someone opens the door and you both leap away from each other.

"Brother?" It's Fjorm, glancing curiously between you and Hríd and the room. "What are you both doing back here? I thought you both were out eating with everyone else."

Hríd turns bright red and starts to stammer, so you cut in.

"I needed him to fix part of my outfit," you lie easily. "It was on my back, couldn't quite reach it on my own."

Fjorm isn't dumb. She is a warrior, with keen eyes and rational thought. She narrows said eyes --  _ oh she  _ **_definitely_ ** _ knows what happened --  _ but doesn't press the issue further.

"Well, we're starting the main reception shortly. Please come join us." It isn't a request.

"Yes, ma'am," you reply as Hríd responds with, "Yes, sister."

Under her burning blue eyes, the walk back to the rest of the wedding feels more like a walk of shame.


End file.
